


Unraveled

by Badwolf36



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e22 De-Void, Gen, Nogitsune, Nogitsune Trauma, Post-Episode: s03e22 De-Void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwolf36/pseuds/Badwolf36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chess and Go are both games of strategy, but the methods differ. Stiles' thoughts were all unraveled, tangled up just like the rest of him, but he could still think of a strategy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unraveled

**Title:** Unraveled  
 **Fandom:** Teen Wolf  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Characters:** Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Nogitsune, Lydia Martin  
 **Word count:** 1,356  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or any related properties.  
 **Warnings:** Coda to "De-Void."  
 **Summary:** His thoughts were all unraveled, tangled up just like the rest of him, but he could still think of a strategy.

 

 

It was the easiest way to describe how he was feeling, even if it didn’t touch the surface of the jumble of emotions (painsickguiltshamewronghurtpanicbroken) he experienced as he slumped down in the McCall living room.

When he’d given into the Nogitsune back at Eichen House, it had tucked him away into the same prison it had been in. But Stiles had never known the Nemeton when it was a full tree. He’d made his first visit to it in that gleaming white warehouse he found after drowning, and it was there that the Nogitsune set up a Go board.

“Black moves first,” it had said, words hissing through its fangs even though Stiles _knew_ that it was his face under all the bandages and he didn’t have teeth (or a speech impediment) like those. He wondered what his face looked like with the Nogitsune’s teeth, and had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting at the thought.

It had handed Stiles a bag of flat white stones before taking a bag of black ones for itself.

“White moves first in chess,” Stiles had countered.

“Not chess.”

Stiles knew of Go from a late-night Wikipedia session, but he didn’t remember much beyond the fact that it was mostly popular in Asia.

“I don’t know the rules,” he said as he sat down on the stump and crossed his legs. He wondered what the Nogitsune was doing with his body. Chaos, strife, and pain, it had said, and Stiles wondered how he could fight back. He wondered if Deaton could pull off another miracle with an obscure wolfsbane, or whether the others could come up with a solution. He was usually the one who figured things out though, so he knew he was going to have to do this on his own.

“The game ends when you give up,” the Nogitsune explained.

Stiles swirled his fingers through the bag of stones. They were cool to the touch and made gentle clicking sounds as he stirred them.

“Guess we’re going to be here awhile then.”

The Nogitsune made some sort of expression, but Stiles couldn’t tell whether it was a grimace or a smirk between the bandages and the teeth.

Then it reached a bandaged hand out and set a black stone on one of the intersecting lines of the board with a decisive clack.

“Your move,” it said, and then let out a dusty, grating sound that was probably laughter in another life.

It was all strategy after that, Stiles figuring out the rules as he went, even if the Nogitsune seemed to break them half the time.

For a bit, he told it how the others were going to defeat it, how they’d brought down things far scarier and deadlier than it. The Nogitsune just made that horrible screeching laugh again before tapping the side of its head and wiggling its bandaged fingers. Stiles’ words dried up when he realized that the head tap meant the Nogitsune was using his memories (and he did have secrets, his and other people’s, locked away) and the hand gesture said that the Nogitsune was using his friends, maybe even hurting them. Strangely, he saw a quick flash of the chessboard in his room, the one he had used to try to explain the supernatural to his dad. He saw Derek’s name on the king (appropriate), and far too many other familiar names on the board, before the flash was gone and he was staring back down at the Go board.

He shook his head and set down another piece, watching the Nogitsune shift restlessly where it was balanced on the ball of one foot and one knee.

The Nogitsune took a few pieces of his, but he took a few pieces of his own. When he did it the first time, he saw a glimpse of the view from the windows of Derek’s loft before it disappeared as he put the piece to the side of him on the stump.

Stiles found himself so invested in the game ( _think yourself out of this, Stiles_ ) that he was almost annoyed when the shockwave rattled the pieces. But then he pieced together the sound that accompanied the shockwave as a howl, a familiar one. He twisted away from the board (and it was a trick, just a trick to keep him distracted, he never would have won) and saw Scott and Lydia in the distance (another trick? No, there would have been no point in that).

He didn’t know how they’d gotten there, or why they were risking themselves for him, but he had never lost the desire to protect the people closest to him, to protect his pack. Stiles stared into the Nogitsune’s bandaged, snarling face and then looked down at the Go board.

Chess had always been more of his game, he decided, and scattered the black and white pieces from the board with a quick swipe of his hands.

After that, there was darkness. Until the pulling started.

He felt it at the edges of himself, yanking uncomfortably until the rest of him started to pull apart into a tangled mess of agony. He felt like he was choking and being choked and when he could hear there was screaming and yelling, but he couldn’t see because it was dark, so dark. He crawled forward, up, because that felt like he was pulling back into himself, becoming whole again, at least a little bit.

There was more yelling, and familiar voices, and he clawed at his face with hands that were covered in something, the same foul-smelling something that his face was covered in. He could feel it now, feel the rough edges, and he cried because he knew they were bandages, knew that he was clothed in the same outfit as his tormentor and Go opponent. Something was pinning him down, but he wanted the bandages off, wanted them gone, wanted to be free for the first time in (how long? How long had it used him for its deceits?) a long time.

And then the bandages in front of his face were gone, and Scott was in front of him. Scott, who came for him and called for him when he couldn’t hear anything else but the trickster’s whispers.

“Scott?” he rasped out, and he didn’t know what was going on, didn’t know what the thing wearing his face has done, but he knew that he had control of voice finally and his best friend’s name was all he could form.

But then Scott was gone, screaming for Lydia. Lydia, who had rescued him and then disappeared, probably been taken if Scott’s shouts and the open door were any indication.

He ignored the others in the room (Peter, Melissa, Deaton), who all looked like they couldn’t understand the very sight of him, and thought of the game boards he’d seen, both chess and Go.

His thoughts were all unraveled, tangled up just like the rest of him, but he could still think of a strategy.

Black moved first in Go, and White moved first in chess. He’d missed the first move, whoever had taken it, and he wasn’t sure who was still on the board, but he knew Scott was a player, and Stiles had staked his life on Scott before. He’d do so again without hesitation.

He pushed away the strands of thought that the Nogitsune had gifted him with when Stiles had pulled them apart (it had used his hands to kill people, he’d almost hurt his Dad, tossed Derek into a wall like he was nothing, goaded Chris Argent to shoot him, infected them all with the Nogitsune’s taint in the form of flies he’d let burst from his body after slicing himself open ohgodohgodohgod) and tried to think of his next move.

The Nogitsune said the game would be over when Stiles gave up. He started yanking at the dirty bandages around his neck, and biting at the ones around his fingers until the others started to help.

No matter the next move, Stiles knew his endgame strategy. Giving up wasn’t it.

 


End file.
